


Double Down

by helena_s_renn



Series: Play the Game [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Consent Issues, Dirty Talk, Family Issues, M/M, Masturbation, Objectification, Phone Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Jared unexpectedly out of town, the boys have to get creative as to how Jensen's going to get paid for something next. Phone sex ensues. Seems Jensen's had some things on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Down

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for, beyond tags: Sex/sexual acts for money, references to wives/parents, hints of infidelity. Don't read if this stuff is trigger-y.
> 
> Also: This is fiction, it's not true, and it might read like it's someone's extremely explicit biography but don't think for one second that this author believes the J's act or talk like this in RL. As stated in previous chapters, I don't know these people beyond what's readily available online.
> 
> Excellent beta by ChristianHowe. Any remaining errors are mine.

Just when he'd thought that their fucked-up Sunday would throw him and Jensen together again real soon, an unexpected call for reshoots took Jared across the country for five weeks. Gen stayed home this time rather than travel with him - their younger one was just starting preschool, and she, itching to do more than full-time wife and mom duties, wanted to go to a few auditions. 

While he was away, Jared had to deal with finding release at his own hands, or toys. Digital evidence abounded that he could kick his feet level with his head, but the limits of his flexibility prevented him from auto-fellating. He didn't cheat, not by his own definition; he could live with taking care of himself for a while. Nothing wrong with that. He had his ritual, for when he had more time to spend on it than a quick jerk-off in the shower. Preferring to lie on his back, Jared would spread his long legs wide, indulge in some crotch-centric self-love, unload his pent-up spunk. Then he worked the inner gland. As soon as his balls' spasms faded, Jared would flip onto his cream-coated belly, stick his ass in the air and milk himself out with a prostate stim. Always so good, that full, sensitive little organ spurted out strings of clear goo with each tentative prod and well-placed stroke. Double orgasm for the price of one hard-on. 

Increasingly alarming fantasies overlaid memory. He wanted control, absolute Domination. While he buggered himself and reached a stealthy hand below his belly to fuck into, Jared imagined Jensen's smaller, yet sturdy and strong body taking his dick. All of it. Sometimes that Jensen was hermaphrodite, with a sweet little cunt just as virgin as his ass, all for Jared to break open. One hole then another, elaborately restrained upright yet helpless till Jensen cried or screamed his love or lost all control and pissed himself between one release and the next. 

Yeah, he was a freak - Jared owned that. He was getting tired of the solitary confinement of his own mind. 

....

Jensen was sick to D-E-A-T-H of this, this 'nothing'. Royalties never stretched far enough. Another mortgage payment came due two days ago, just like every month; in another week it would be delinquent. Danneel could cover roughly one-third of the $30K with the fee from her latest shoot. Really, she was getting too old for it. Lots of supermodels worked well into their 40's, a mark she hadn't hit yet, but neither had she ever truly achieved the status. Hilfinger liked them young and either exotic, visually slutty, or deadly beautiful, and Danneel, while still possessing her red-headed stepchild looks and a mellifluously aggressive sexual bearing, was only there for reasons that Jensen preferred to leave in the not-distant-enough past. 

Other projects appeared on the horizon once word circulated he was... unencumbered. Jensen supposed he had Jared to thank for that. It stuck in his craw so bad... But it would be months before he could work, if things got greenlit, if they signed him, if, if, if. Granted, just going out there and selling himself came a lot easier without the prospect of disgruntled relatives storming the set. Danneel had been a pawn in that game, because of the leverage she'd been careless enough to let them get on her. No one thought Jensen knew about that, but he'd fingered it years ago. Till anything moved officially to main production, he was going to have to find some other way to pull his weight.

A sinking feeling, the knowledge of what piece of himself he'd have to give up to finance the next chunk of his life, dogged him till he was so sick of waiting he made the inevitable call. 

...

Though he could have, Jared decided not to break his resolve to allow Gen some badly needed time off from him and not fly her around to his location du jour. They'd never been apart for more than a few days since they got married. Like it or not, Jared fit the definition of a high-maintenance husband: he spent big chunks of money; he was a high-spirited, high-energy, high-metabolism, fast-talking kind of guy, it was just his personality. Nor did he ask Chad or any fleeting plaything to meet up with him on the road. In the past, when Jared had tracked Chad down, he’d taken the utmost care and precaution - if he himself were the stationary party, no amount of discretion in the world could have kept media attention away or them a secret for long. That option was tapped out. Whatever his other talents, Chad was no master of deception, or discretion. 

And as for Jensen... Well. In Jared's book, a couple of blow jobs and a two-minute session of against-the-wall frottage didn't count as a 'thing'. Or a relationship. More like the opposite. Road-sex with him at this point would likely be an exercise in stop-start frustration. It didn't stop Jared from humping his hand or his sheets, cumming like a beast thinking about how Jensen would feel on top of him pounding his ass but with that itch deep inside never scratched right. 

........

Unlike before, time and distance didn't keep Jensen from calling him. "Jared?"

His former co-star knew enough about reshoots on location to limit himself to late night or early morning. For once, the time zone difference came in handy.

"Hey man, what's up?" 

"Ah, not much." A note of caution crept in, like Jensen had to deliver bad news. "Say, uh, about last weekend..." Talk about getting straight to the point. 

"Ugh! Let's not talk about it. Like, ever." 

"Oh." The disappointment in Jensen's voice was so tangible Jared imagined it dragged down the corners of his mouth. "Sorry. I'll just give you the short-version update then." 

"Oh-kay..." In an instant, Jared worried that things in Jensen’s family had gone from worse to even worse than that, despite his attempts to ‘help’. Oh, he’d helped himself, too, with both hands and down the hatch, but it had been his suggestion to get the senior Ackles’ on the next plane back to Texas.

"They're gone. Got back from the airport a little while ago." 

"And...?" 

"And what?" 

Jared used his talking-to-especially-slow-person voice. "Dur, Jensen. How did it go?" 

"We had words." 

"Words." Fighting words, by the inflection.

"Yeah. A lot of words. Loud words. 'Whore', for example was featured."

"God, Jensen, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be. You never said it." 

Jared huffed, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Let’s just say they believe the hype. Whether it’s true or not hardly matters. Never thought I’d hear _that_ word out of my mother’s mouth.”

The words plus the flat tone of disassociation cut into Jared like he'd done something wrong. Like he'd made Jensen 'less', diminished him. And they hadn't even fucked yet, so wtf? Jared pushed his tongue against the insides of his upper molars, where the point tickled his gumline. "So now what?" he finally asked. 

"Damned if I know. Business as usual?"

"I'll be home in a month."

...

Click. Finality settled over him. A month. Shit. Where he sat at his desk before the open laptop, Jensen read and reread the email to his attorney and hit the 'Send' button. That fucker charged $1600 an hour, so Jensen had made damned sure his missive was black-and-white, cut-and-dried, no contingencies, no gray areas. As much as he hated to do it, he knew that a speedboat far from counted as a basic necessary of life. Same with the matching Harleys they'd only taken out twice. 

Jesus, what was it going to take? The amount of cash this sale would net - after his attorney's "finder's fee" came out - plus his small-beans pay as one of several producers of another of the Indie films Danneel sarcastically renounced his fondness for, could carry them a few months. Hey, it was work. He wouldn't need to face Jared unemployed for a while. Or if he was lucky, not ever. The Syndicate had called him again. After three-and-a-half years, to say Jensen hadn't expected to hear back from them made for a towering understatement. According to their rep, Renner had really, truly, said 'no more' and meant it this time. He had to jump. Now. Only 'now' could mean months or longer, which he couldn't afford. It had to work out. _Had to._ For his own mental health, which already skated on thin enough ice. One of those in the family was enough. Jensen didn't think he could take another potential billion dollar deal firing him for being too old. Or too... frigid. Was there any worse humiliation for a man? 

The answer to that was "yes," and he'd had his fill of it, too, thank you very much. 

Okay, so maybe he didn't _need_ Jared. Not now, not in the future. The success of his deal should be singing in his veins. He dared not tell anyone and jinx it. The fuzzy time span of the middle ground between today and whenever he could sign something ironclad..? That part could steal his breath, could kick him in the jewels. He would rather resume the visits because he wanted to and had overcome what Jared no doubt perceived as his hang-ups, minus the desperation of being close enough to flat broke that a couple thou looked like salvation. Jared had been generous. More than. 

How could a man not read into that? 

... 

Two days after Jensen deposited the funds, he received a call from the beachside private rehab facility he’d memorized the number for over the years. 

“Hello?”

“Mr. Ackles?”

“Yes?” He listened for a long time. “Yes, ma’am. Of course I’ll authorize funds for a private room for Dan--, um, for Mrs. Ackles.” He gave his account and routing number. 

Just like that, he was back to square one.

...

It took Jensen another day to work himself up to it. "Jared?"

"Yeah, hey, dude."

"Are you at home?" 

"Nope. Still on the road." Leaning across the ubiquitous hotel room desk, Jared read and reported, "Jacksonville, Florida. Shoulda known, Florida. Humidity you could cut with a dull butter knife." 

Jensen chuckled. "Too bad." They exchanged small talk for a couple minutes, till a knock at the door of Jared's suite told him his dinner had arrived. 

"Call you back in a few, okay?" 

"Jay..." 

"I think I know... Just need to sign for my supper." 

Two minutes later, three-plus thousand miles away, Jensen was kicking himself and biting his nails at the same time. After an eternity, his phone vibrated on the glass surface of the coffee table in the master bedroom. He strode across the cream-colored carpet from the opposite end of his pacing track. "Yeah?" 

"So, you'd be looking me up about now if I was home, I guess?" Jared inquired. He was hungry, salivating; the medium-rare steak, baked potato and salad looked perfect, but... priorities. 

"Hm, yeah." The reluctance in Jensen's voice was underscored by unwitting keenness. Leaning, or leading. He wanted something. Or more accurately, Jared discerned, Jensen wanted _some_. 

"Really. There's always phone sex." Cutting into the thick, perfectly cooked slab of beef, Jared envisioned the trimmed-down version of Jensen he'd now twice encountered, that he hadn't had anywhere near his fill of yet. Not with his hands or mouth, not with his sex, giving or receiving. "You wanna try it?" 

Jensen agreed quickly; after all, it was the reason he'd called. "Yeah. If you hadn't suggested it, I was going to." 

Jared laughed, not quite believing. Back in the day, Jensen's mind and his mouth had been every bit as dirty as Jared's. He made women - and Jared – wet and twitchy by murmured little announcements of how he was hurting for it, how his escort’s hands, lips, tits, legs or what have you, had him up and down all night. Marriage had cured all that. Or had it? If only Jared could tap into the reserve of filthy wordplay. "Huh. Great minds or whatever. Tell me... Tell me what you'd like to do. If I was there."

"Like for pay. Like in your garage." 

Jared grunted assent. "If that's what works for you, sure." He could practically hear the gears spinning in Jensen's head. Calmly, Jared cut a piece of steak, chewed and swallowed holding the phone against his ear but away from his mouth. He should really get himself a headset-he just never wanted to be that guy wandering around looking like he was talking to himself. Footsteps, a pause, more footsteps. "Danneel's out?'" he asked between bites. 

"You could say that. So, uh, is this going to be... a, a date? Or whatever you call it?" 

Jared snorted. "You mean, am I paying? What’s your area code, 310? 562? 1-900 numbers charge what these days, like $9.99 per minute? So... sure." He slathered on thick Texas oil and seduction. "Paying for _your_ voice, Jensen. Your words, your fantasy." He paused, to let that sink in. Choosing his phrasing with care, he let it out in a silky rumble. "When you think about me, 'cause I know you've been, how’s it go down?"

Jensen drew in a quick breath and exhaled, not quite a gasp or a sigh, somewhere between. whatever he was sitting on creaked a little when he shifted his weight. "Just like that. It goes down. Like you did, when you got on your knees and stuck your face in my junk. So yeah, you go down. Only, we're in a bed and I'm on my back..."

"Uh-huh," Jared interjected. "So I can lay between your legs and swallow your cock."

"Mmmph! Yeah, you swallow it all, you're... You lick while you're sucking, inside your mouth. Let me fuck it, let me use it. God, you're so good, no teeth, no gag reflex, pressure like you're gonna suction the cum right out of my balls! When I'm right on the edge, you pull away and..." Jensen's voice had reduced to a whispery rasp, low and shredded. "And you teabag my sac..." With the gulp of a harsh swallow, he stopped short. 

"Don’t stop now! Then what? Do I rim you?" Jared couldn’t prevent the helpless jerk of his pelvis or the sudden clench of his asshole.

"God, Jared...!" 

"Damn right I would. That little closed pucker and I'd lick it open and love those little wrinkles, pry your tiny hole open with my tongue and fingers till my spit's everywhere and you’re all loose and messy." 

"Wha--? Ummmm..." 

Okay, that might be too much, just yet. "Are you in bed? Right now?" Jared wanted to know. It was early on the west coast yet.

"No. I wouldn't dare. I'm on the loveseat." 

"Wouldn't dare what?" It hit Jared what, and he nearly choked. Jensen was sitting there with his hand down his pants, staring across the room at... "Are you saying you're not allowed to cum in your own bed?" He couldn’t suppress his incredulous outrage.

"Danni doesn't like it. The, er, smell. Or the mess." Oh, defensive much?

"Jesus, I still wonder how she ever got... Never mind." Deepening his tone once more, Jared asked, "What about you? Does your spunk bother you?" 

"N-no. It comes from me, after all." Jensen barked a laugh. "No, I don't care, I'd even sleep in the wet spot. Or change the sheets." 

Something further ticked in Jared's lizard brain. "Get on that bed right now, and get your dick out. You're gonna rub one out all over those 1000-threadcount sheets."

"Oh, gawd...! Just a sec." There were rustling noises, and the distinct metallic hiss of a zipper being pulled down. Jensen's respirations accelerated double-time. Half a minute later, he relayed, "Okay. I'm in the bed. And I... I'm naked." At the moment, he’d slid between the sheets flat on his back, palming himself a little but not really doing much else yet.

"Are you hard for me?" Important questions first. Jared most certainly was. Had been since they'd started this. Fuck! His groin on high alert, veins flooded, glutted. Unzipping his own jeans and kicking them off, he told himself that they needed to be out of the picture unless he wanted cum stains on his designer denims. To say nothing of the SAXX. Pulling his shirt off overhead, Jared lay back on the bed.

"Not... Not fully, not yet." 

Really? Nerves, maybe. Okay, he could work with that. "Good. Now you're gonna stroke yourself. Till that dick jumps up into your hand. Right, Jensen?" 

"Y-yeah. Got it in my hand now." He did, just holding, not rubbing.

"Jack it slowly. Try not to cum till I say so. Now... Besides the panties... And being blown, what else do you want us to do?" Panting noisily, Jared pushed the cart with his half-eaten dinner aside with one foot and writhed slowly on the mattress, pushing up into his fist. 

"I---, uh," Jensen cleared his throat. "I think about... You said you take it up the ass, so I've thought about how... I wanna fuck you," he blurted, then amended, "I wanna be inside you."

Jared laughed at how that sounded coming from Jensen's mouth: awkward as fuck. "Guess I should be relieved there's no flowers and candles or kissing and lovey-dovey crap. So that's it, just get right to the nasty?"

"Fuck you." 

Jared snarled, "'Fuck you', he says. Thought that's what you just said you wanted." 

"Yeah..." Jensen paused. Then he purred, "Except I'd kiss you, 'less you don't want me to... And, and I want that big dick in my fist, I mean yours, wanna stroke it, so goddamn perfect Jay... Can’t stop remembering the things we did. Thought I’d hate ever second of it, but I... I just want more." 

He shouldn't let it it affect him so much - Jared knew better. But hearing those confessions, even if it was bullshit, went straight to every part of Jared that could possibly get aroused while his heart hammered against the inside of his ribcage. "More. Me, too. All of that. I already know you're good with that mouth... You beating it now, Jensen?" The background noises said most definitely yeah, but sometimes antagonism was everything. "Stroking that dick-skin? Tell me what you're doing, what it feels like. What's having a hard-on and playing with himself feel like to Jensen?" 

The man groaned, low and dirty. Jared echoed it, lower still. He had his cock strangled within an inch of its life around the base, running the other fist up and down the rigid cylinder of it as his ear absorbed the resumed dirty monologue. "'M not playing. Strokin' it. Lovin' it. So hard now, hurts, needs to be touched, every inch of this dick wants you. 'Kay?" Slap, slap, slap, slap. "My ballzzzz, are on meltdown. Lava inside. And um, I'm on all fours now. Felt right. Chest on a pillow, ass up, knees wide, fuckin’ getting down on it. You wanted to know that, right?"

"You're killing me..." Jared groaned. 

"Gonna tell you how it feels now. Shush. I like the process. Not just zero-to-sixty but the sensation of blood rushing down, of my dick filling up with it, first just stretching out a little like a lazy yawn. Then it rises." Now that he was talking, Jensen didn't stop. For years, it seemed, he'd held back in every way. And now he couldn't. Just like he'd rarely given in to what his body needed, what had seemed the only option left to him now stood as the only choice - his choice. "Fills up, stands up, every surface spreading out like it's spawning billions of over-sensitized nerves. I like to tickle the slit, press my pinkie in just a little." Bracing himself on one shoulder, Jensen moaned from his chest into the speakerphone. Circular little thrusts, juddering, humping his own hand, Jensen managed, "Want you here with me. Touching me." 

Red-hot prickly gooseflesh chased itself in ripples up and down Jared's body. He licked his hand, reached between his legs. Taut flesh over heated steel, he stroked the long curve. "God, Jensen... Want that, wanna see your face when you come, see it shoot outta you." 

"Close... Gonna... y'know..." On his end of the connection, sweat broke out all over Jensen, in the foreknowledge of the messy puddle he was about to make on the soft, forbidden Egyptian cotton. Release was building everywhere: balls, lower back, the backs of his knees and god help him, his hole.

"'Y'know'? C'mon, Jen. You can do better than that.” Jared sounded like the bratty little brother he’d once played. “What's your dick look like right now?"

“Like a dick.” Jensen huffed through his nose; the puff of air in the phone's mic sounded like a hurricane. "All angry reddish pink, the skin's shiny from stretching." His tone ascended and grew soft. "'M so hard now. God, I need to fuck." 

Panting like a bellows, Jared echoed, "Yeah, want it... With you, wish I was there right now. Our bodies... moving together..." 

“Rubbing up on me...” breathed Jensen, “My fist in your hair...”

“How do you see it? You on your knees for me? Or me on my knees for you?” Jared’s mental porno gave him a view from above of a muscled, freckled back, those fucking shoulders Jensen had born with where Jared had had to work out a hundred thousand hours for his, stretched and sinuously twisting before him. At the same time, he could practically feel elegant fingers digging into his hips, himself stretched and invaded with the clumsy impatience of a first-timer. 

“Face to face, dude, you’d wrap your legs around me.” The wet smacking noises accelerated, and Jensen groaned loud and long...

...which Jared joined as his balls tightened and trembled. “You’d do me so good. Know how bad you need it, you’d get down on that... my dick would be trapped between us, imagine how it would feel against you the whole time, leaking slick, just like now... I’m so wet, Jensen!” Jared couldn’t speak, his mouth filled with drool.

“You’d have your hands on me, or your mouth, grabbing at me while we... you’re so fucking passionate, Jared, I... oh, god... nnngh!”

Urgently, before he missed it, Jared swallowed and grunted, while his own hand flew up and down, “Put the phone down right next to where you’re gonna shoot, so I can hear!”

A muted thud, the slick, wet slaps continued, along with Jensen moaning through his orgasm. The other sound effects only existed in Jared’s imagination, and the porn-worthy imagery of Jensen spraying the sheets. Caught up in his own release, Jared shuddered hard and let it go. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, legs pulled up, his spasms left him with curled toes and quivering thighs and his load streaking his belly. When he stopped whining out the intensity of it, he was giggling. 

And Jensen was panting hard. “Jesus god... that was... what’s so funny?” 

“You forget to tell me how Mr. Happy looked, you know, a minute ago.”

"Mr. Happy? Haven’t heard that since high school. Already told you, though, guess you killed a few brain cells. My Mr. Happy's kinda mauve right now, 'cept the head is more purple. Shrinking, but very happy." For once, he sounded genuine about that.

“Mine, too. So happy he cried. A lot.” If memory served, the wet spot in Jensen’s formerly-pristine bed was bound to be impressive.

"Happy-cock Padalecki. Happy Padacock." Jensen was giggling, tfoo. Falling more or less onto his side, he stretched, flexed his feet and calves. It’d been a very long time since he’d been as genuinely relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t last long, but gift horse and all that.

"You're cracked."

"Nope. I think you broke me." 

"Not as much as I'd like to." All the things he’d like to do, he could have gone about that for many long minutes. But he had an idea Jensen would need a quick end to this conversation now, after one certain detail.

“Right, well...” 

Jared huffed out air, breathed in deep. “Go to Gen, _Jen_. She’ll pay you.” He wondered just what Jensen would make of that.

 

Fin.  
for now

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES:  
> *for those of you who didn't 'get' JA's phone call w/an anonymous someone, Danneel's in rehab/therapy again. It's going to clean Jensen out, financially.  
> *"The Syndicate" - reference to Marvel supposedly having approached Jensen to play Hawkeye and - supposedly - he turned them down. *shrugs*  
> *SAXX - brand of men's underwear. Look it up, including on this site. Thx to other SPN authors for inspiration.
> 
> Feedback always appreciated.


End file.
